


Extraordinary

by grahamhannah53



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Past Domestic Violence, Smut, only a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamhannah53/pseuds/grahamhannah53
Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid loves to watch people do what they're best at-- it makes him feel happy to watch other people feel happy. Insert reader, a passionate attorney at law that hasn't had a date in years, and you get a little magic.(I legit was inspired to write this while watching Major Payne-- if you find the reference, kudos to you.Also, PSA, I have no idea how lawyer-ing works. So don't judge.)





	Extraordinary

Dr. Spencer Reid was a certifiable genius with an IQ of 187, but genius, he thought, couldn't be measured by any test, defined by any number. In his eyes, all men (umbrella term) were extraordinary in their own right, whether they were a nigh-miraculous neurosurgeon or a heaven-sent pastry baker, a highly-skilled combatant or a parent with the best lullabies. The BAU was filled with incredible people that he would qualify as genius, and the extraordinariness of presumably ordinary people never ceased to amaze him.

That having been said, his favorite place to witness everyday genius was not at HQ, but in the courtroom.

To watch the passion for the law exhibited by the participants in court, the eloquence with which argument and counterargument were shot across the room like so many arrows was entrancing to Dr. Reid like nothing else. An honest, intense trial was more entertaining than the finest play or action-packed film-- and today's trial?

Oh, it was a field day.

“My client,” the prosecuting attorney quipped, leaning forward aggressively. “Has sat before this court _twice_ _before_ , and you did nothing. An indecision, you say. You sit, jury, and you deliberate, you ponder, you ask amongst yourselves, ‘ _Is he guilty?’_ Every one of you knows in your heart that he is not innocent, but you ask, ‘ _Is he guilty?’_ Before you, my client Anna Marie Bell has shown you the hand-shaped bruises on her neck, and her husband and abuser's hands seated before you have fit the marks. She has given to you the recordings in her home of his voice, his threats, his abuse. You have seen the x-rays of her cracked ribs, you have seen her suffering, watched her hobble into this room for two days. You, the people, have the power to prevent this man from harming anyone in such a way ever again, and you refuse to use it. I have presented all the evidence to you that I can, shown in all truthfulness the foul deeds done by this man to his wife, and still, you ponder. I have naught left to say-- my client would have me be silent, and let that silence speak its volumes.”

“That's one hell of a speech to tell everyone she was gonna shut up,” Rossi commented dryly.

“It's an art,” Reid smiled in awe. “She's playing the jury like a fiddle. Watch how she looks at them. She's maintaining steady eye contact, never glossing over a single person. She's unnerving them, one by one. A true professional, her voice retains its emotion while her face stays almost neutral. She’s aware of the biases against her sex and she’s playing around every single one. You see, now she has created such an atmosphere as to--”

“Reid.” Morgan made the universal ‘cut it out’ signal with his hand across his throat, and Reid, slightly abashed, swallowed hard and looked away.

So he got a little excited at times. Go figure.

Really and truly, he would have attended by himself if the rest of the BAU hadn't insisted-- after all, he did live in the apartment next to the domestic abuse case. In fact, he had been the one to call and report to the authorities about it when it first began… Not that it did any good. Mrs. Bell refused to press charges the first five times she escaped to a women’s shelter. This time being the sixth, her husband nearly killed her, and she decided that maybe battery charges and a divorce might be in order. Reid, ever the helpful neighbor, had recommended this very attorney, as he did with so many others-- (f/n) (l/n) was hell on wheels with domestic abuse cases.

Upon first seeing her, (y/n) wasn't one to catch the eye. She wasn't plain by any means, but she refrained from drawing any sort of attention-- almost like the hardly-ever noticed masterpieces hanging on coffee shop walls.  Often, Spencer saw her walking to work in the early morning with coffee in hand, and walking home in the late evening with some files; even with the backdrop of a sunrise or moonlight, she seemed ordinary still. Not unpleasant, not overly pleasant-- just existing. But here in her element, her voice became sweet as a psalm, raising hairs on arms, and her face lit up with angelic radiance-- she became extraordinary. In her passion, she became beautiful, in her victory she became graceful-- a vision, truly.

The defending attorney was sweating bullets, knowing his client was being used to mop the floor.

It was a few hours more until the jury were finally able to reach a decision-- the defendant was declared guilty and sentenced to jail time. Spencer could see from where he stood that there was a small smile playing on (y/n)’s lips as she lightly embraced her client, and the moment made the air all the sweeter. Even as he was leaving, Reid felt his heart swell with pride; (y/n) may not have known him, but he felt somewhat like a proud parent, having watched her work for so long.

(It wasn't stalkerish at all, really it wasn't.)

Just before Reid and the rest of the team were approaching the exit, a familiar tune caught the doctor’s ear, and when he turned to look, none other than (y/n) was standing near him, gazing up at a painting of Lady Justice, humming in thought.

Reid walked up beside her to get a closer look at the painting, and then he heard enough of what she was half-humming half-singing to recognize what it was.

_Dies irae, dies illa._

_How ironic,_ Reid thought.

“Day of Wrath,” he mused aloud, quite forgetting himself for a moment as he looked at Lady Justice.  “Odd. We are in the judgement place of man, not that of God, and yet, ineffably, it fits. Perhaps in this case, Lady Justice is the almighty, and her wrath is in her judgement.”

Reid felt more than saw (y/n) look up at him, and he turned to look at her as well, feeling all of the sudden an intruder

“I'm sorry, were you talking about my humming?” she asked, smiling hesitantly.

“Yes-- pardon if I intruded.” He extended a hand. “I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, with the Behavior Analysis Unit of the FBI. And before you ask, yes, I'm a holder of exactly three PhDs at the age of 27. I also have an IQ of 187. Not to brag-- I hate labels, but they seem to make the world go round.”

“Well, I certainly feel under titled,” she laughed as she shook his hand. “I'm (f/n) (l/n), attorney at law.”

 _I know_ , Reid wanted to say, but instead, he smiled. “You were incredible back there with the Bell case.”

“Thank you,” she beamed. “I do my best. It’s really difficult when-- when what you do, what you say, can determine someone's future.”

 _There's something she was going to tell me_ , Reid noticed, watching her look away. _But she stopped herself._

“I can only imagine. Excuse me.if it’s rude to ask, but may I have your business card? You probably know that the Bureau has a firm for job-related cases, but--”

“Sure thing, sure thing.” (Y/n) grinned, handing him a card. “Feel free to advertise for me.”

Reid chuckled at the joke. “Only for a small fee.”

“Reid, are we done here?” Rossi asked from across the room. “Morgan's hangry.”

“I'm not hangry, I swear to _God_ …”

(Y/n) laughed, her (e/c) eyes sparkling like the heavens. “You might want to go. It was nice meeting you, Dr. Reid.”

“Call me Spencer,” he smiled. “It was nice to meet you as well, though meeting you a second time would be twice so, wouldn't you say?”

(Y/n) only blushed, nodding as Spencer turned away to rejoin his friends.

“Was that what I think it was?” Garcia asked Morgan not-so-subtly.

“I-- you know what, I think so.”

Reid paid it no mind. He was too busy letting his mind wander to places others could not follow, too busy getting lost in a world of analytical thought that was his and his alone.

  


***

  


_Let's see, what's for supper…. Ah, yes, ramen with a side of ramen._

(Y/n) couldn't remember the last time she had anything else besides ramen and takeout-- when you live alone, she had found, home cooked meals were too expensive and time-consuming.

 _I should go out, try to go for  something more healthy,_ she thought as she looked at her stomach. Then she looked at her desk and decided against doing anything but case research.

Late nights and early mornings had been the story of her life since law school, but (y/n) found herself growing weary of them. Lack of sleep made the bags beneath her eyes even darker and deeper than they were naturally, and she found herself growing less able to hold her concentration on days where she functioned off of two hours of sleep. Those days were too many… But she didn't know any other way to get everything done. Work, exercise, reading, writing, volunteer work, hanging out with friends-- her to-do list stretched out for a mile, and yet even when she completed every task set before her, she was still yet criticized. _Why don't you have a boyfriend?_ her friends would ask. _You don't hang out with us enough. Why can't you just chill for once? You're too serious._

(Y/n) sighed.

 _Fuck it, I want a movie night_.

And, as with every nice thing (y/n) attempted to do, movie night fell apart like a house of cards in a tornado.

Every movie she chose had something she hated-- basic tropes, dry plots, problematic themes, and/or actors that reminded her of exes. Frustrated, she just ate her ramen in silence, glaring at her blank T.V. screen as though it had personally offended her. Yeah, that lasted only about five minutes, the eerie silence.making her ears ring. (Y/n) thought she might scream if the air didn't fill with something for her mind to focus on, so she flipped on the T.V. and started channel surfing.

 _Mainstream bullshit_ , she thought bitterly, watching as five different shows with the same basic plot flitted before her eyes. _No creativity anymore, just sex, drugs, and murder._

Nothing was exciting to (y/n) anymore, real life included. The most eventful thing that had happened all week was meeting a guy with an IQ of 187, and even that was a total bust. She was usually a masterful conversationalist, but when she met his eyes, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. She should have been more friendly, if not outright flirted-- he was a beautiful man if she did say so herself, and he would be well worth any interest she'd shown.

 _That's it_ , (y/n) though, slamming down her remote. _I'm going clubbing next weekend. I'll stagnate here if  I don't._

With all haste, she phoned a friend and made plans-- surely, nothing could go too terribly wrong.

  


***

  


“So, what this chalks up to is a sexual sadist, and the victims include white males with brown eyes, all taller than 5’5,” Aaron Hotchner informed the local PD. “Every victim found has been left in the same ten-mile radius, with the same signs of sexual assault in the form of anal rape. We have here an approximation of his features, and we hope to…”

It was all the usual speech. Reid could nearly quote it before Hotchner could say it-- it was the same basic framework with the specific details of the case thrown into place. It was a simple method of communication, but effective-- everyone always got the point that Hotch very clearly presented, and if they didn't, they damn well acted like they did.

Reid wished he had that commanding demeanor sometimes-- he almost never got to finish a sentence without some sort of interjected criticism.

“Reid, Morgan, I want you two to go out to the club that three of the five victims had been taken from and ask if the employees have seen our unsub.  I don't want this botched. You got me?”

Reid and Morgan made eye contact and nodded together. This wasn't their first team-up with similar tasks.

“So, clubbing tonight,” Morgan joked as they walked out into the parking lot. “Maybe you'll meet up with that pretty little lawyer you got your eye on.”

“Oh no, I don't have my eye on any--”

“Spencer. You literally work in the BAU. We all know you had a thing, platonic or not, for her,” Morgan laughed. “I'm willing to bet she'll give you a run for your money, though. Seems a real spitfire.”

 _Would that I could know_ , Reid thought, but kept it to himself.

  


***

  


“I really don't like this club,” (y/n) said as she navigated the crowd with her friend. “I thought you said this place didn't have shitty music.”

“ _All_ clubs have shitty music,” her friend huffed. “If I hadn't said it, you wouldn't have come.”

Well, that was true enough.

“I'm going to go get a drink. You don't have to come with,” she told her friend, holding back a sigh.

As (y/n) approached the bar, her brain was hard at work trying to create a good excuse to leave. As she ordered a drink, she noticed a familiar form sitting on one of the stools and chatting, but it wasn't until the person turned that she recognized him.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” she greeted him when he saw her. “How small the world is!”

“Actually, in comparison to other planets--”

The guy Dr. Reid was with elbowed him, which was almost funny until (y/n) saw how quickly his smile fell into a frown of embarrassment.

“Ah, what I meant to say is, uh, hi, I guess.”

(Y/n) smiled warmly. _How cute_ , she thought. “How have you been, Dr. Reid? I'm assuming nothing is too bad since you're obviously here to have a little fun.”

“I told you, call me Spencer.” His smile could power a small European country for a week with its wattage. “And as to why I'm here… I'm actually on the job. Have you seen a man that looks like this?”

Spencer held out a sketch to her, and as if by miracle, the moment (y/n) looked up she saw a carbon copy standing almost directly behind Spencer and his friend.

“Yes,” she replied slowly, emphatically, tilting her head and pointing behind them with her eyes. Immediately, Spencer seemed to understand, hastily putting away the sketch.

“I see.” Spencer's eyes changed immediately before her, becoming sharp and severe. He leaned in, lowering his voice significantly. “If you can without drawing attention, I want you to leave as quickly as possible with your friends. Do you understand?”

(Y/n) nodded. She understood alright.

Just because she understood didn't mean that she was going to do it, though. (Y/n) wasn't one to play the hero, but she knew that observation was a powerful thing, and who better to watch from the sidelines than someone who knew exactly what to look for?

  


***

  


As Reid watched (y/n) walk away, Morgan stood, smoothing down his jacket. It was clear that the agent was about to say something when Reid felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he turned to look, he came face-to-face with a man matching every description of the unsub.

“Hey,” the man said, smiling widely. “I haven't seen you around here before.”

“Uh, I actually don't frequent clubs at all-- not really my scene. I came today looking for something though… Something I don't intend to go home without.” Reid used the most seductive voice he could manage, using all the proper body language to.indicate that he was interested.

Lying with his body was so much harder than lying with his words…

“Oh really?” the man purred, backing him against the bar. “What do you say we dance?”

 _This couldn't have turned out better if we'd planned it_ , Reid thought as he followed the man to the dancefloor. Reid fit the victimology perfectly-- it only made sense that the unsub would target him. Now they had the guy in their clutches-- Reid could see Morgan following them, no doubt already phoning Hotch. If they caught this guy now, it would be an accidental miracle… and if it took Reid figuring out how to grind and getting groped a little, well, it was all for the team.

This was turning into a lovely evening, truly.

  


***

  


(Y/n) was confused as to why Spencer was dancing-- very vulgarly, she might add-- with a man until she saw the man’s face.

 _The unsub_ , she realized. _But where is Spencer's partner?_

That answer came quickly. The other guy was evidently trying to follow Spencer and the unsub, but (y/n) saw that he was being restrained by three men, who had also gagged him.

 _Why is no one seeing this but me?_ (Y/n) wondered, but now was not the time for thought, but action. She watched warily, gripping the cocked gun in her purse, not daring even to breathe when she saw Spencer stiffen. She moved to find a better angle, and then she saw it-- a knife glistened in the unsub’s hand, almost pretty as it reflected the strobe lights. (Y/n) knew it was now or never, and she dropped her purse, revealing her glock. Swiftly, she followed them as the unsub moved towards the exit with his captive, and (y/n) wondered once more why she was the only one that saw this.

As soon as she reached the pair, she grabbed the shoulder of the unsub that was gripping Spencer's arm and put the nose of her gun right in the crease of the man’s ass so that he could feel _exactly_ what kind of danger he was in.

“You move one more muscle and I swear to God I will clean your colon out quicker than the volcano burrito from the new taco place down the street,” she hissed into the man’s ear. “Drop the knife.”

The moment the knife hit the floor, Spencer whirled around and uppercut the unsub, and by then, Morgan had managed to free himself, and was rushing over to make the arrest. Chaos unfolded around them, but (y/n) felt oddly at peace.

“You saved my life.”

(Y/n) turned to see Spencer standing there, staring at her in wonder. “I told you to leave, not to play the hero, but if you hadn't, I would have been on another missing persons poster.”

“I really can't take any credit for anything--”

“Good, because that will make the paperwork on this easier if that's really the case,” a deep, serious voice interjected, and (y/n) turned to see a tall, intimidating, dark-haired man approaching them. “Reid, she'll ride back to the station for questioning with you.”

“Of course,” Spencer teetered nervously.

 _If everyone working for the feds is that intimidating, I'm never going to watch another bootlegged movie as long as I live,_ (y/n) thought as she followed Spencer out of the club.

  


***

  


When Reid finally made his way home, his day had come to a rather satisfying end. He had closed a case, escaped a kidnappings, and scheduled a date all in the span of three hours-- if that wasn't just incredible, Reid didn't know what was.

 _“Let me buy you dinner tomorrow_ ,” he'd said to (y/n) on the ride back to the station. “ _It's the least I can do.”_

Oh, the way her eyes had shone at that. “ _Only if you surprise me with where.”_

Reid grinned just recalling it. He couldn't remember a time when he was more excited to get to know someone. As a behavior analyst, Reid found humans fascinatingly deep and complex in general, but (y/n) in particular piqued his interest. The more he discovered about her, the more he wanted to know, and he felt almost too attached for so short an acquaintance, but that was just the standards of normality talking. Since when did he care about anything like that? There were too many things to learn, too many friends to make, too many people to love to worry about what anyone else thought, or what was ‘normal’. Spencer lived and loved at breakneck pace, and there wasn't a better way to go in his eyes.

 _So gather ye rosebuds while ye may,_ he thought, remembering a poem he'd read some time ago. _Old Time is still a-flying, and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying. Robert Herrick._

  
  


_***_

  


“I do hope you meant it when you said you wanted to be surprised,” Spencer commented amiably as he drove. “Not many people know about this place, but it's one of my favorite places to go.”

(Y/n) laughed, trying to cover her nerves. “Of course I meant it. I trust your tastes more than my own.”

 _What I meant to say is that I have lived off of red bull and social justice since law school and I forgot how to otherwise sustain myself,_ (y/n) thought, cringing internally.

“Huh. That's interesting. Statistically speaking, most women have very little trust in men’s taste in food… and pretty much everything else,” he chuckled.

(Y/n) wanted to make a good-natured comment about how she was usually the outlier in statistics, but stopped herself when she realized that wasn't so true. Instead, she changed the subject.

“So, where did you grow up? You accent doesn't say Virginia.”

“Nevada,” Spencer replied easily. “Las Vegas, Nevada is my hometown.”

“No way,” (y/n) laughed, raising her brows. “So I take it you’re a demon in a sweater vest at cards.”

“I'm not going to try for modesty, as in most cases it reflects negatively on the person that attempts to downplay their strengths, so thank you for that kind assumption that, if correct, would prove a compliment. Which, it was correct. So thanks.” Spencer smiled cutely, sparing her a glance, looking away from the road for a second so she saw the brightness of his eyes.

 _Holy shit_ , (y/n) thought, a little lightheaded. _I would let him tie me up and whip me if he talked like that the whole time he did it._

“You're welcome,” she replied happily, admiring the way Spencer drove, his long, elegant fingers lightly gripping the steering wheel. “This may be too soon in an acquaintance to ask this, but are you in any, uh, fandoms?”

“Fandoms?”

Could it be that Dr. Spencer Reid, certified genius and FBI agent, didn't know what _fandoms_ were?

“Like, do you read any book series, watch any T.V. show, anything like that and really, _really_ like it?”

“Do philosophy books count?”

(Y/n) went to laugh, but she saw that he was serious. “You seriously don't read or watch fantasy anything? Or like, anything purely for entertainment?”

“No…” Spencer took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “I mean, should I?”

“Well, I mean, you don't have to. Just because stuff like Game of Thrones and DC comics have taken over my life doesn't mean _you_ can't be obsession-free,” (y/n) laughed. “I was just wondering.”

“What are your fandoms, then?” he asked with a smile. “I'd like to know what interests you.”

 _Aw, isn't that cute? He's definitely new here._ “I have too many to count, but right now Game of Thrones is my favorite. Well, technically A Song of Ice and Fire, the books, not the show.”

“What’s it about?”

(Y/n) inhaled deeply, ready to go on a total fangirl rant, but she stopped herself. “I'm not so sure you'd be interested, and if you get me started, I might never stop.”

“We have all day. Or, well, I do, I just assumed you did.”

“You really don't mind?” (Y/n) hoped she didn't sound too hopeful, too desperate, but somehow that probably wasn't the case.

“Yes,” Spencer chuckled. “I'm sure.”

“So, it all starts with the Starks and snowballs from there…”

  


***

  


“... and that's why Tyrion Lannister deserves all the love in the world.”

As Reid listened to (y/n) and ate his sushi, he couldn't be more content.

This little place, a library-restaurant called Niche, was his favorite place to go to unwind-- it was his personal sanctuary, his safe haven for when he wanted to be left alone with the smell of old books. There were little corners all over the restaurant where books were stacked on shelves built into the walls and cushions were on the ground for customers to sit at the short tables-- soft, incandescent lighting made the place feel extra homey. Reid always sat at the same corner by himself, eating the same meal every time, so it was understandable that when he walked in with a lovely lady at his side, all the familiar employees turned their heads. Despite all the unwanted attention, Reid was glad he'd shown (y/n) this place. She seemed to love it as much as he did, and he couldn't think of a better place to witness (y/n)’s  excitement than this familiar, semi-private, almost-home.

“The complexity of the plot is extraordinary without a doubt,” he smiled. “I'll have to read the series so that I can discuss it with you.”

“They're a handful, those books. You'll be carrying them around for a while-- I'm a decently fast reader and it took me three months,” (y/n) smiled ruefully.

“Oh, it won't take me long. I read 20,000 words a minute,” Reid replied with a proud little smile.

(Y/n) went a little pale at that, but soon shook off the shock. “Well then. It _might_ take you a week.”

Reid grinned, and not for the first time that evening, he noticed a nasty scar near (y/n)’s temple, making his pleasant expression melt into a mix of concern and curiosity.

_I probably shouldn't ask…._

_Ah hell. Whatever._

“I-I don't mean to pry, and if it's too personal, then you don't have to answer, but… Where did that scar come from?”

Immediately, (y/n)’s hand shot up to her temple, and he just _knew_ whatever she was about to say wasn't a good story at all. “T-This one?”

“Yeah, that one. If you don't want to talk about it--”

“No, no, it's fine,” she smiled wryly. “I'll tell this in narrative form, if you'd like. I find it less difficult to talk about it if I build up to it.”

Reid nodded, understanding. “Of course.”

“I met my ex-fiancé at a concert hall in South Carolina. He was the principal violinist for the orchestra he played in, with an IQ of 143. I guess you could say I have a thing for genius,” she chuckled, but it was hollow. “We hit it off instantly, and we dated for four years. I thought he was the one, and when he proposed, I was the happiest I had ever been.”

The melancholy wistfulness in (y/n)’s voice and her bittersweet smile was enough to crack Reid’s heart, and he began to regret asking about the scar-- he didn't think he really wanted to know anymore.

“A few weeks before the wedding, he wanted to have sex...and I didn't. I was, well, am, still a virgin, and I really didn't want to have sex with him until after the wedding, especially since we had waited that.long, y’know? He didn't want to take no for an answer, and things got a little dicey. He’d hit me once or twice before, always apologizing profusely afterwards, so I knew what he could do, but this time when I resisted, my head was slammed against our glass coffee table hard enough for the glass to shatter. After my hospital visit, I ended it. He's in prison now, but not on account of me. He killed the girl after me, and is now doing the time.”

 _That was what she didn't tell me that day at court,_ Reid realized. _She empathized with being the victim of domestic abuse._

“I'm truly, deeply sorry. I don't… I can't imagine.” Reid reached over to grab her hand. “Any man that would treat you that way isn't any man at all, but a monster. Well, treat anyone that way, but especially someone like you.”

 _Someone this sweet, this enthusiastic, this_ alive… _How could anyone raise a hand against someone like that?_

“Thank you for saying that, but I'm not special.” (Y/n)’s face was contorted into a frown. “I was ignorant, blind, and naïve. I _let_ him do what he did-- I told myself all my life that I wouldn't be like my mother, that the moment a man hit me, I would leave… So why couldn't I do it?”

Reid watched (y/n) clench her fist, and it felt like she was squeezing his heart instead of empty air.

“No, no, self-blaming is incredibly unhealthy, it can lead to--”

Reid stopped himself. Now was probably not the time…

“Thank you, Reid,” she smiled sadly, squeezing the hand that he still had on hers. “You don't have to stop your info-dump on my account-- I've caught you at stopping yourself a lot, but I'd rather you didn't. What you have to say is important, and I value it.”

If _that_ didn't touch Reid’s heart, nothing ever would. “I-I don't know what to say…”

“Then you don't have to say anything.”

_What did I ever do to meet someone like this?_

“I want to do this again,” he blurted. “Often. Weekly. I know it's probably too soon to say that, but--”

“Spencer, nothing would make me happier.”

The statement was genuine, as was Reid's smile afterwards. In fact, he didn't-- couldn't-- _stop_ smiling. Not even when paying the bill, not even when he went to sleep that night, did he recall that smile leaving his face.

It was safe to say that Dr. Spencer Reid had found a new confidante with whom to share his world.

  


***

  


“You know, I _thought_ it was funny that no one at the club helped out that night,” (y/n) replied through a mouthful of steak. “So you're saying that the owners of the club could possibly have been accomplices?”

“In theory, yes, though proving that would be extremely difficult,” Spencer sighed as he repositioned his long, lanky legs beneath himself. “You know how it works-- we can prove them not-innocent, but there is simply not enough evidence to prove them _guilty._ ”

“Law is a bitch sometimes,” (y/n) yawned, thinking back to her law school days. “Impartial, fair, but a pain in the ass.”

“I suppose everything has its faults,” Spencer chuckled. “Even such a thing as law.”

“Y’know, being a lawyer isn't as fun as I thought it was gonna be,” (y/n) grinned. “The movies never show the paperwork.”

“Neither is being an FBI agent,” Spencer agreed. “Hollywood screwed us all over.”

“Hey, speaking of Hollywood, do you want to hang at my place after we get done eating and watch some Game of Thrones? I know you've read the books now, but I think you'll enjoy the show just as well.”

This was a big step, (y/n) knew-- even though she and Spencer had been seeing each other at least once every week for the past two months, they hadn't really talked about whether or not they were dating, and they really hadn't made anything exclusive. They hadn't even gone so far as to just hang out at home together-- they always caught a meal or something else equally public.

Spencer nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure thing. I really did enjoy the books. Was the show well-made?”

“The casting was amazing, and the plot stays mostly the same, excepting a few details.”

“Great,” he smiled, making (y/n)’s stomach flip. “I wanted to have a discussion with you in any case, but I wanted to do so somewhere more...private.”

(Y/n) nodded, smiling  and willing away her nerves. “Cool. That works out perfect, then.”

_OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod what is he gonna say, what did I do, what have I gotten myself into…._

  


***

  


Reid walked into (y/n)’s apartment and immediately felt at home. It was a clean, quaint little place with subtle, individual touches that reminded him of its owner. Along the white walls were remakes of classic paintings, as decor around the room, there were various hints at fandoms-- the Hogwarts House coasters, the Stark direwolf stitched onto a couch pillow, just to name a few. It was incredibly, uniquely (y/n)...but it was too empty. It hardly looked lived-in.

“In case you didn't know, I live alone,” (y/n) smiled, plopping down on the couch. “It's nice sometimes… Scary other times. Make yourself at home-- what's mine is yours.”

Reid nodded, taking a seat beside her. “I like this place. It's very _you_.”

(Y/n) shrugged, smiling meekly. “Well, it's home. You can kick off your shoes. And socks. And, you know what, whatever else you want. I’m actually gonna change into something more.comfy, if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind at all.” Reid felt his heart thump nervously in his chest. “When you get back, we can discuss what I was wanting to talk about earlier.”

“Sure thing! Be right back.”

_Okay, Spence, you got this. You're a genius. You can communicate your feelings without it giving you a literal panic attack._

In light of that, Reid really wasn't sure why that task seemed so daunting right now.

When (y/n) reentered the room, she was wearing a baggy T-shirt that read “ _No, you're right, let's do this the dumbest way possible because it's easy for you,”_ and sweatpants with “ _Spoiled”_ written across the ass. By all standards, that ensemble should have been slightly deterring, but Reid only.found it cute and endearing.

“So we've been hanging out a lot,” Spencer began slowly as (y/n) sat down close beside him on the couch. “And the more we interact, the more.fond of you I grow. Studies show that these feelings are usually mutual since the chemistry between two people (those people in this case being us) happens because of two individual yet similar chemical makeups adjusting to one another to become nearly identical, thus causing the relationship between the two people to become almost perfectly harmonious, but since there is no way to guarantee that those feelings are in fact mutual, I feel inclined to ask you whether or not you would object to being my girlfriend. Exclusively.”

(Y/n) blinked. “Spencer Reid, I don't know what in the world you just said, but if I say yes then are you my boyfriend?”

Reid grinned. “Yes, that's the gist of it.”

“Then sign me up,” she laughed, scooting a little closer. “Just for the record here, Spencer, I _adore_ you.”

Reid full-on laughed at that, watching (y/n) look at him with eager, shining eyes. There was a funny feeling in his chest, almost an aching fondness, and he never wanted to lose that moment.

“Can I, uh, put my arm around--”

“Here.” (Y/n) curled up into his side, and Reid put his arm around her. “Better?”

“Much.” In all honesty, Reid had never been one for physical affection, but he felt as though physical support was something they both needed, and he found, much to his delight, that feeling (y/n) breathe against him as she started the show was rather pleasant and grounding.

About halfway through the second episode, (y/n) was fast asleep, her head in Reid’s lap. She wore the most content smile he had ever seen on her, and Reid let himself relax as he felt her light breathing.

  


***

  


When (y/n) woke, she was snuggled up in her bed with no memories of how she got there. Groggily, she sat up rubbing her eyes, feeling almost hungover from too much sleep.

 _When did Spencer even leave last night_ ? she wondered as she yawned. _I must have passed out…_

She then noticed a note left on her nightstand, which she swiftly read, smiling lightly.

 _I hated to leave so early,_ it read in scrawling print, _but I have work today and I fell asleep with you on your couch, so I needed to get home to shower and dress. I had a great time last night, and by the way-- Jon Snow isn't Eddard’s son, is he? I'm betting that he's Ned’s sister's child, but by whom I am still uncertain. Text me and let me know if I'm correct._

_Your loving boyfriend,_

_SR_

(Y/n) felt her stomach fill with butterflies, and her smile widened almost impossibly wider.

 _I have a boyfriend,_ she giggled to herself. _A hot, amazing, genius boyfriend!_

(Y/n)’s heart felt full to bursting. She couldn't remember a time when she was this happy, this carefree, this… _in love._ She hoped she made Spencer as happy as he made her, because this feeling was everything she had always wanted.

  


***

  


“Reid, are you coming with us for steak tonight?” Morgan asked across the office. “It's on Rossi.”

“Uh, no thank you,” Reid replied with a small smile. “I already have plans.”

“Okay, spill, how long has it been official, and why haven't you officially introduced her to the team?” Morgan asked with a smirk. “Don't even try to hide it.”

Reid turned what he knew was an unflattering shade of red. “Y-you met that night at the club!” he defended himself, scooting back in his rolling chair. “And for your information, it's been official for exactly four months, six days, and approximately 12 hours, but we've been seeing each other six months in total.”

Morgan shook his head with a grin. “Has she met your mother yet?”

“Two weeks ago-- I think she and my mom love each other more than they love me,” Reid laughed.

“So, have you, y'know… Sealed the deal?” Morgan raised his brows expectantly.

“I'm sorry, I don't follow.” Reid frowned in confusion. _Surely he isn't asking if I've proposed to her..._

“Y’know, jammed the ham, cooked the beef?”

“I still don't understand.”

“For chrissakes, Reid, have you slept together?” Morgan sighed, both entertained and exasperated.

“I sleep over sometimes, if that's what you mean. We haven't-- I mean, there's nothing sexual going on, if that's what you're asking.” If  it was possible, Reid turned even more red.

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering.” Morgan's smile suggested otherwise.

“Hey, are you mocking me?” Reid demanded as Morgan stood with a chuckle. “I don't understand-- why are you laughing? Morgan!”

“Don't sweat it, pretty boy,” Morgan laughed. “I'm just laughing because I can.”

Somehow, Reid didn't think that was the case.

  


***

  


“I love you, Spencer Reid, but if you don't release my chopsticks _right this instant,_ I swear I'll put Nair in your shampoo the next time I'm at your place!” (Y/n) half threatened, half giggled.

“Oh really?” he teased her, holding them higher. “That's quite a threat considering that we’re at your’s right now. Besides, you don't _sound_ very threatening.”

Soon, (y/n)’s chopsticks were back in her possession, and they finished their meal with light conversation. Afterwards, they just lazed about, all tangled up on the couch, and once again, (y/n) felt marvelously whole. She leaned to kiss Spencer and he complied, their mouths melting into one another. Languidly, his tongue explored her mouth as his hands made their way to her waist, and fire burned low in (y/n)’s belly as he pulled her closer.

“(Y/n),” he breathed as they pulled away for air. “I understand that there is no set standard for when sexual intimacy between a couple should happen, and I respect whatever boundaries that you have, but at whatever point at which you would wish to engage in such activity, I'm ever at the ready.”

(Y/n) held back her laughter as best she could, her sparkling (e/c) eyes meeting his sincere brown ones. “Is that your way of asking me if I want to.have sex with you?”

“Well, I-- yes, I suppose.” Spencer looked like he wanted to fidget, but his hands were otherwise occupied at the moment.

(Y/n) smiled. “I think I'm ready to make that commitment with you. Let’s go to my room.”

Once Spencer closed the door behind them, (y/n) went to unbutton her shirt, but he put his hands over hers and murmured a “Let me.”

Slowly, he removed her clothing, layer by layer, and kissed every inch of new territory there was to explore. The feeling in (y/n)’s stomach intensified with every touch, and she shuddered as his hands raked down her sides.

“Did you know,” he murmured as he kissed her forehead. “That your eyelids are one of the most sensitive parts of the human body?”

“No, I didn't,” she breathed.

“Well, they are.” As if to prove his point, he kissed each one, sweetly, tenderly.

“How are you so perfect?” (Y/n) asked, smiling softly up at the man she loved. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?”

“You suffered for the extent of your love. You walked a thousand miles for someone who wouldn't take a step for you. I don't know how well I measure up as far as a reward for that suffering, but if I am what you want, then that's what you deserve-- all of me, unconditionally.” The sincerity in his eyes was nearly painful for (y/n), and she caressed Spencer's cheek, feeling the smooth skin beneath her fingers.

“You are what I want,” she assured him. “Only, for now, with less clothing.”

“And you have me,” he grinned.

  


***

  


“Explore me,” Reid had said when (y/n) expressed her concern with being out of her depth as far as sex went. “Think of it as science. I am ever your willing test subject.”

Reid wasn't so sure if giving that woman free reign over his body was a good thing-- he might never let her _stop_ touching him.

Every inch of contact with her was like fire. When her hands swept over his stomach, he shivered-- when she kissed and sucked at his neck, he wanted to groan. It was like heaven, only better.

“I think I'm ready,” (y/n) sighed into Reid’s ear.

 _This woman is going to be the death of me_ , he thought as he sat up to gather her in his arms. _If I make it out of this alive, I'll be the luckiest man on earth._

  


_***_

  


(Y/n) fidgeted nervously as Spencer introduced her to all of his friends and coworkers. So many names to remember, so little time.

_Okay, (y/n), you can do this-- start from the top. That one is Derek Morgan, that one is Aaron Hotchner, that one is…. Damn._

After introductions were made, all of them sat down for a meal together, and (y/n) couldn't help but notice the look of pure joy on Spencer's face. He looked so happy-- (y/n) wished she could make him this happy all the time. She knew what his team meant to him. They weren't just coworkers or colleagues-- they were a family, forged in the flames of danger, fear, and a desire to do right by the world, quenched in the blood of those they were too late to save.

(Y/n) understood that kind of bond would never fade.

“Welcome to the family,” Morgan said to her, aside from the group. “Make my baby brother happy, will you?”

(Y/n) smiled. “I will.”

The conversation at the table ranged from nightclubs to office jobs, and all of a sudden, in the middle of their meal, these people didn't feel like strangers anymore to (y/n)-- not with Spencer holding her hand beneath the table and looking at her with love in his eyes. No, this was her family now too. They liked her because they loved Spencer, and whatever made him happy made them happy.

 _This is the start of something extraordinary,_ (y/n) thought as she watched the man she loved defend their sex life. _Absolutely extraordinary._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
